The Magnum and The Beretta
by BetaReject
Summary: A series of little ficlets that explores the unorthodox relationship of Claire Redfield and Albert Wesker. Is inspired set in the universe of Knune's tale 'Running up that hill'. *Warning these are not written in order*
1. Shattered

**Artist Notes:** This was inspired by **knune**'s (author id: 1762631) tales Running up that Hill which is a must read for all Claire/Wesker fans! Believe me you won't be disappointed! For those wanting to link to this please change (dot) to . for it to work...

Also this ficlet/drabble was written and inspired by **knune**'s universe (as they have given me permission) so credit goes to her for letting me play in her playground! =D

As such this tale is for her.

* * *

As silently as she had slipped into his life, Claire had slipped away. In her wake, she left nothing save a hollow warning and a distant good-bye; both written on a crisp piece of paper that sat neatly on the kitchen table of their hotel room.

For years, Albert had known that this moment would one day come. Nor did he need to question the reason behind her decision to leave. What he had not anticipated was why now-after all they had been through-that she would decide to walk away and not look back.

His eyes drifted to the neatly kept bed across the room, Egyptian silk sheets neatly hidden beneath luxurious thick comforters. Forbidden memories of passionate kisses, soft whispers, secrets unspoken and touches that held meanings neither could admit accosted his mind without mercy.

What once brought him a strange sense of ease, now no longer gave him peace.

None of it was real. It was nothing more than a finely crafted illusion, one carefully built by the most unexpected of dreamers. Their sanctuary took years to create and only a single note to destroy it.

Only one question remained, why now?

The paper in his gloved hand crumpled as the small box he held in the other shattered. Panic gripped his mind-a foreign feeling, one matched by another alien sensation, hurt. Promptly his rational mind took control burying with it the undesirable emotions.

It was not the first time Albert felt his steely resolve slipping away; he knew it would not be the last. It could not end this way, it _would_ not end this way. They would just have to re-negotiate their arrangement.

Knowing what had to be done, and that he would find her where it all began, Wesker swiftly departed.


	2. Opportunities

**Artist Notes:** This was inspired by **knune**'s (author id: 1762631) tales Running up that Hill which is a must read for all Claire/Wesker fans! Believe me you won't be disappointed! For those wanting to link to this please change (dot) to . for it to work...

Also this ficlet/drabble was written and inspired by **knune**'s universe (as they have given me permission) so credit goes to her for letting me play in her playground! =D

As such this tale is for her.

* * *

It was autumn when Albert Wesker was been demoted to the role of infiltrator, posing as the captain of Raccoons special task force better known as S.T.A.R.S.

Proving his loyalty to a company who never had it to begin with was not progress, yet Wesker took it in stride knowing that opportunity came to those who sought it. It was the greatest of these that changed his life forever; he would not know it until it was too late to turn back.

It was winter when _she_ stepped into his life. Bundled up in a heavy leather jacket-the sort bikers wore-over a black hoody along with bright pink mitts and toque she looked like a living disaster that could not make up her mind if she was the warrior or the damsel in distress.

"Have you seen my brother?" the young red-head called out, her first words spoken to him as she stomped the snow off her tall black boots. Albert's initial response was to ignore the young woman and continue his journey back to his office. He had far too much work to bother playing chaperone to someone's little sister. His hesitancy proved his mistake as she soon approached her hands busily removing the toque and the mitts she wore.

"My brother's Chris-Chris Redfield," she explained before quickly adding, "I'm his sister, Claire."

Her piercing blue eyes captured his own gaze-hidden beneath dark shades-and for a moment, he did not respond. Albert was certain she knew the truth. Swiftly he buried the thought; clearly, he was more exhausted from his heavy workload than he would care to admit.

"Your brother is not due back to the station for another hour. If it is urgent you should call him," Wesker briskly answered as he turned to walk away.

Two steps later and Claire was demanded his attention yet again.

"Captain-My phone's dead would it be alright if I used yours instead?"

Her cheeks already rosy from the cold grew an even brighter shade of pink as he swiftly faced her.

"I just got in town for the holidays. Chris told me to come by to pick up the keys to his apartment," Claire apologized as she motioned to the bright pink backpack that hung on her shoulder.

"Then check his desk it's probably there," he stiffly replied. She nodded in response but did not move from where she stood. Her eyes studied him intently instead as if expecting a reaction, some sort of response. Struggling to maintain his patience Wesker resisted the urge to sigh; it would seem she was as dim-witted as her brother.

"Well?" He prompted after a moment's pause.

"You going to tell me where it is or am I going to have to wander aimlessly till I find it?" she asked with a raised brow and a hint of an amused smile.

This time he could not prevent the soft sigh of frustration that escaped his lips. Anyone else would have immediately dropped the matter and left. Unlike most, Claire was neither intimidated nor unnerved by his presence.

Not bothering to wait for the young woman to catch up Wesker led her to the offices where the S.T.A.R.S team did much of their reports. He could feel her eyes watching him closely and knew she was trying to piece together the puzzle not even he fully knew. Everyone did it at one time or another; he was an enigma to most, if not all.

As he was about to leave Claire to her search their eyes met once more, vibrant blue orbs capturing his icy hidden gaze.

In that moment, Albert knew that she would one-day piece the puzzle together. He did not know whether to be concerned or intrigued by the discovery.

Perhaps he had underestimated the younger Redfield after all.


	3. November Rain

**Beta:** A huge thank you to **cariel** for beta reading this so it looks all spiffy and makes sense! =D  
**Artist Notes:** This was inspired by **knune**'s tales Running up that Hill Part 1 and part 2 as well as Draw a line in the Horizon which is a must read for all Claire/Wesker fans! Believe me you won't be disappointed!

*pokes her into posting a full out Claire/Wesker fic listing* There are more that all Claire/Wesker fans must read!

On that note this tale takes place during the final scene of Draw a Line In the Horizon. Any mistakes in the personalities and setting are entirely my own and I apologize in advance *blushes*

Also this ficlet/drabble was written and inspired by **knune**'s universe (as they have given me permission) so credit goes to her for letting me play in her playground! =D

As such this tale is for her.

* * *

Claire sat across from Albert, but was mentally a million miles away. Her legs were perched, resting heavily against the mahogany table's edge, a desperate attempt to further distance herself from him.

The truth reflected in her bloodshot and weary blue eyes and Albert knew he could no longer deny what he had known all along. "Are you going to eat that?" he asked. His hands were clasped in self-defence. He couldn't change the past anyone than Claire could change the present.

Red-orange cat eyes settled onto the sacrificial hamburger that sat now between them. It had long since gone cold, much like the conversation they never had. She picked at the bun's crust her expression stoic, detached, and distant. In the past, Claire had always been so easy to read. Now she was closed off, a perfect mask of flesh and bone. Only her eyes spoke the volumes neither could speak. "I don't know," she quietly answered.

Her answer was not the one he needed to hear. For years, Albert knew this moment would come. Now that it was upon them, he knew it could not let it end. It was no longer his decision to make. His palms settled against the glossy finish of the table next to his sunglasses. The last of his walls were lowered and he was at her mercy. "You need to eat—to keep your strength up."

Food was the least of either of their problems, yet they could speak of nothing else.

Her eyes briefly flashed revealing a mix of hardness, weariness, and pain. He had inadvertently crossed a line and nearly broke the fragile thread that held them together; it as a mistake he would not make again. As soon as the emotions surfaced in her eyes, they were buried, hidden behind walls he never witnessed before tonight.

"Do you want a bite?"

They both already knew the answer; the question was only a mask for what Claire intended to say. It was not much, but it was something and that was enough for him.

"No, thank-you," he politely answered. He never could lie to her, even when she needed it most.

She accepted it, as he hoped she would.

The hamburger went untouched; their bed remained cold.


	4. Political Suicide

**Beta:** A huge thank you to **cariel** for beta reading this so it looks all spiffy and makes sense! =D  
**Artist Notes:** This was inspired by **knune**'s tales Running up that Hill Part 1 and part 2 as well as Poet and the Muse and Little Negative of Hopes Refined all of which are must reads for all Claire/Wesker fans! Believe me you won't be disappointed.

On that note this tale takes place during the events of 'Poet and The Muse' and 'Little Negative of Hopes Refined'. Any mistakes in the personalities and setting are entirely my own and I apologize in advance *bluses*

Also this ficlet/drabble was written and inspired by **knune**'s universe (as they have given me permission) so credit goes to her for letting me play in her playground! =D

As such this tale is for her.

* * *

  
It had been four months, five days, twenty-one hours, fifteen minutes and nineteen since he had last seen _her. _ It was also five months since the game ended. Five horrifying months since he, Albert Wesker, had lost to Excella Gionni.

All it took was a slight of manicured hands, a needle's prick against cool skin, and his entire world had come crashing down.

_Oh, I have my eyes set on something much bigger._

Wesker could still hear the echo of her final words as he discovered too late that what she had injected into his arm had not been the Uroboros virus. He had underestimated Excella's ambition and it cost him everything.

Trapped and paralyzed by the very poison he had created years ago the former Umbrella agent was strapped to a sterile table helpless as excruciating pain coursed through his veins bringing him to new heights of suffering.

The sound of distant voices, one familiar, another unknown, echoed and pounded against his throbbing ears, a vicious reminder that even a _god_ could be made mortal. Wesker did not know where he was, but he knew the all too familiar sterile setting of a testing chamber. He had never been on this side of the double-sided windows before, nor had he anticipated that he would be here.

Footsteps approached; the soft click of heels gave away the identity of his captor. Warm, soft hands, so repulsive and unwanted, touched his throat, holding it tight before piercing it with a needle. Slowly, the plunger sealed shut as a new toxin filled his veins. It was too soon for another injection; too soon and far too much.

His vision shivered and blurred a silent warning of the horror that was to come. A breath later, every cell in his body felt as though they were constricting, expanding, and threatening to burst. The pain he had felt moments ago paled to the white-hot stars that began to explode violently behind his eyes and beneath his skin.

Pride ensured he did not scream; he refused to give the bitch the pleasure.

Needles continued to pierce his flesh, forcing his coherent thoughts to shatter beneath the ever-increasing crescendo of pain and the primal instincts of the progenitor virus he carried. Echoing faraway and pounding into his ears he could hear the sound of voices calming speaking of live test samples, subjects, and hypotheses.

It was very sort of conversation he so often had with the late William Birkin. Only now, he was the subject in question and his body was the sample.

The destiny he once believed was so clear and entirely within his grasp was no longer in his control. It would be weeks later before he would find the strength to wonder if it had ever been.

It had been four months, five days, twenty-one hours, eighteen minutes and seven seconds and all he could think about was _her._


	5. Hard Facts

**Beta:** A huge thank you to **cariel** for beta reading this so it looks all spiffy and makes sense! =D  
**Artist Notes:** This was inspired by **knune**'s tales Running up that Hill Part 1 and part 2 and Draw The Line In The Horizon all which are must reads for all Claire/Wesker fans! Believe me you won't be disappointed!

On that note this tale takes place pre-first scene of 'Draw the line in the Horizon' (basically just before they start dating). Any mistakes in the personalities and setting are entirely my own and I apologize in advance *blushes*

Also this ficlet/drabble was written and inspired by **knune**'s universe (as they have given me permission) so credit goes to her for letting me play in her playground! =D

As such this tale is for her.

* * *

  
The petite Asian agent was not the one Wesker desired; she was meant to be only a distraction. His lips met Ada's own, aggressive and skilled, everything that he should have wanted and should have desired, but he did not.

He knew she felt the same way, but still they played the game, hiding behind secrets they were not fully aware of and deep rooted emotions that had nothing do with the each other. He needed answers and she needed denial; in the end, they both got what they desired.

The kiss was over before it began. He gave no explanation for withdrawing, nor for the abrupt departure; she did not deserve one. Despite his need to prove himself wrong, Albert could not go through with it. There was no denying the truth now, nowhere left to hide from the facts. The walls were closing in and he was required elsewhere.

A flick of the wrist, a dialled number later and he was on route to another grand city in another part of Europe. He was on a loyalty mission for Umbrella's competition better known as _The Organization._ Opportunity had finally availed itself, but it mattered little in the face of a more disconcerting matter. What had begun as an innocent, if not reluctant friendship was transforming into something more, something that was far too complicated to be denied or ignored.

There was no way it could ever work. Claire was too young, too innocent and too naïve to get caught up in the tangled web he weaved. He was too old to be chasing after a woman who was the sister of his most promising subordinate; one who was young enough to be his daughter.

If he crossed that line there would be no turning back, not for him and certainly not for her. There was just too much at risk, too much to sacrifice and too much that he could not afford to lose. He was a man with a destiny, a purpose. After a lifetime spent making it a reality he could not afford to let mere petty emotions interfere.

That was until the kiss.

Thousands of miles away in Racoon City, Claire enjoyed the last of her summer vacation, blissfully unaware that in twenty-four hours, both of their lives would change forever.


	6. New Beginnings

**Artist Notes:** This was inspired by **knune**'s tales Running up that Hill Part 1 and part 2 and Draw The Line In The Horizon all which are must reads for all Claire/Wesker fans! Believe me you won't be disappointed!

This tale was written to fit into **knune**'s universe (as she has given me permission) and takes place just before the opening scene of Draw the line in the Horizon.

* * *

Claire's things were sprawled out all over her brother's already messy desk. Papers covered in scribbled writing, doodles of stick men and other strange images Wesker was not sure he wanted to decipher, were her schoolbooks. With her right leg hanging over the arm of her chair, a pen caught firmly between her lips and a binder that was barely held together at the seams in her lap Claire sat deep in thought.

It was not the first time she had taken over her brother's desk while he was on duty; Albert also knew it would not be her last. He used to believe she was waiting for Chris's return so she could get a ride home after her classes. Wesker now knew it had nothing to with her brother and everything to do with spending more time in his company; the feeling was mutual.

It had not even been a full day since his arrival back from _vacation_ when he returned to the police station. He was not due back on duty until tomorrow but he had other matters to attend to that could not wait.

Upon entering the Police Station his presence immediately caught attention; Albert Wesker was rarely, if ever, seen in anything outside of his S.T.A.R.S uniform. Their watchful eyes were entirely ignored; he was not here for their amusement.

He got no further than the hallway that led to the S.T.A.R.S offices when he found Claire cursing a coke machine. Desperately she attempted to shake free the precious can of soda pop that was held in its clutches. With a hint of a smirk he fed the machine another dollar and Claire became the proud owner of two canned drinks, not one. Her embarrassed smile and sheepish apology marked their reunion; it reminded him that he was home.

An hour later and Albert was playing catch up on past reports, while she prepared for her midterms.

What began as a scholarly discussion about viruses-rather her lack of knowledge about them-ended with Barry's interruption. Wesker wanted nothing more than for the burly S.T.A.R.S member to collect his miserable guns and leave. From behind Barry's back, she flashed an amused grin and rolled her eyes; Albert's frustrations were forgotten.

Now they were alone and Claire's attentions were unnaturally focussed on her books. Her rosy cheeks marked the regret she felt for her brazen actions a moment ago. Wesker paid it no mind; he knew it was time to act.

"You must be hungry," he noted in casual tones.

"How you'd guess?" She replied without ever glancing up.

Albert had never known her not to have an appetite and attributed it to a high metabolism. Claire lived off a diet of fast food and sweets, yet her athletic figure was flawless in form.

"I have my ways," he answered with a hint of a smile. It would be some time before her brother would return and he was certain she had not had the chance to eat proper meal.

"So where should we go for dinner?" His question was more of a statement.

"Cools Pizza," she replied with a grin. Her eyes were focused on her books, while the pen hung precariously balanced between her lips.

The greasy spoon restaurant was a common hang out for most of the S.T.A.R.'s members, though Wesker himself had never been. It was not his first choice but Claire was intent on it and he was not about to argue the matter.

"Very well. Would you care to go now or would you prefer to wait a bit?"

It did not occur to him that Claire was not taking him seriously until her head snapped up and the pen dropped from her mouth, clattering on the table before her.

"Wait, you serious?" she balked. At any other time, he would have been irked by such a foolish question. The rosy colour collecting in her cheeks and the disbelieving smile that crept on her lips made it impossible to be annoyed. It was equally difficult to look away.

"Cause if I didn't know any better I'd say-"

"That I was asking you on a date?" he finished for her. Wesker smirked feeling rather pleased with himself. It would seem the direct approach was the best course of action after all.

Claire laughed as she nodded in reply. Her attempts to hide her embarrassment at being overly presumptuous fell short as her glowing red cheeks had given her away. He did not mind, her unbridled honesty and innocence was as refreshing as it was intriguing.

"I can't think of what else it would be called," Wesker stated in sincere tones.

Claire fell silent for a moment as she considered his words. In her eyes, he could see the internal struggle, the weighing of options and the realization that this was doomed from the start. He briefly wondered if she knew only a short time ago, he too had been in her exact position; he doubted it.

Her decision made, Claire closed her books and rose to her feet. Dressed in torn black jeans, a faded Harley t-shirt and worn out old biker boots she looked nothing like the women Wesker had known before. She was a Valkyrie, his Valkyrie.

"Alright, let's go," she said with a playful grin as she sauntered to the door. With a small smile of his own, Albert joined her side and together they stepped out into the night.

There would be no looking back.


	7. Begins The Journey

**Artist Notes:** This tale was written to fit into **knune**'s universe (as she has given me permission) and is an AU alternate ending to her fic See the World Hanging Upside Down.  


* * *

  
"Where do you want to go?

Silence answered Albert's question as did the soft thrum of tires rolling against the highway. The hour was late and he was uncertain where they were going, only that it was away from the city.

Bare hands continued to hold the steering wheel, as crimson eyes flickered from the road to his passenger.

"I haven't really thought about it to be honest," Claire replied as she met his gaze. Though her smile was sincere, the sadness still lingered in her eyes. He could no longer remember a time when they were free of the walls and the weight of the world.

Albert's gaze returned to the road as his thoughts drifted to another time, another place.

_...We were going to run away to France..._

It had been years since that discussion occurred but the memory was still clear.

"What about France?"

The young woman hummed in reply as she considered it. He had long since stopped caring about destination, with Claire by his side it no longer mattered.

Her fingers, calloused yet warm crossed the slight distance that separated them before settling into his hand.

"Alright. I'm game if you are." Her voice betrayed nothing; her touch said all that needed to be said.

With a hint of a smile his crimson eyes returned to the road, while pale fingers decorated with a single white gold ring adjusted their grip on the wheel. Outside their windows large flakes of snow floated from the night sky completing the serenity neither imagined they would ever experience.


	8. The Vest

Albert knew the moment he saw the jean vest that it was meant for Claire. While she was not a woman of material weakness he knew she would appreciate the gesture. The vest was hardly a fashion statement; it was designed by a local artist, not some famous designer, but there was something in its appearance that could not be ignored.

The vest was a bold shade of crimson, a perfect contrast to the decal of the angelic warrior who stared back at him in defiance; the bomb in her hand a silent warning. A better symbol for his lover he could not have found. It was quintessentially Claire Redfield and Wesker would be damned if he left the shop without it.

It was his first gift to his fiery lover; it would not be his last.

"Open it," he encouraged with a smile that would have been mistaken for a smirk by anyone else. Claire was more surprised, than uncertain as she carefully opened the box. In silence he watched on feeling both confident and pleased. The wrapping fell to the floor of his living room with a gasp and a grin.

A short time later, the rest of their clothes joined it.

The vest became Claire's trademark; Albert's need to hide his emotions behind lavish gifts became his.

Wesker's betrayal of S.T.A.R.S and his responsibility for the demise of thousands of innocent lives did not keep them apart. Claire continued to wear the old vest religiously, just as Albert continued to scour the world for expensive trinkets worthy of the one who would never wear them.

Everything seemed to hang in the balance and for a time Albert was almost confident that his work would never again interfere with their relationship; that was until Raccoon City.

"Birkin's daughter was last sighted with a young woman; a biker I believe.. I've been tracking them for a while now."

Ada's report normally would have annoyed him. Wesker had no patience for unexpected complications and inaction. Yet all he felt was a strange sense of emotions he once equated to dread.

Claire had mentioned in passing that she would be returning home for the summer during their last meeting. He could not imagine anyone else surviving the virus's release, certainly not one fitting that description. He would have to choose his words carefully.

"Do you have any visuals?"

"Of course. The tracking device has been activated on the child. The transmission has been downloaded to your channel."

A moment later the transmission sent was activated revealing what Ada had promised. His mind could barely register what he saw. The visual though barely visible was enough to confirmed his fear. It was not the sight of the child steadily making her way through the Raccoon Police Station that caught his attention; it was the vest that she wore.

Claire had made her return to the hot zone that had once been Raccoon City. Suddenly all of his priorities changed.

"It is of the utmost importance that Birkin's little brat and her keeper are not harmed."

"I have enough on my plate already, I don't need to be playing babysitter too. Sherry will be fine, there is no need to pursue the matter further for now."

Albert knew the child was in safe hands but it was the little girl he was concerned about. Sherry, like Ada, were disposable; Claire however was not.

"You have been given a directive Ms. Wong. I would suggest you follow it through."

"Of course. I will keep you updated," her sickly sweet voice did not hide the fire in her eyes.

"As you should."

The connection was cut off before Ada could have the pleasure of the final word. The grudging respect Wesker had for Ada skills as an infiltrator did not extend in so far as to consider her an ally.

Staring ahead to the snow filled skies of Russia he calculated the amount of time Raccoon city have left before the _quarantine_ process would begin. It would only be a matter of time before the bomb would be dropped; a few hours was not much but he could only hope it would be enough.

Thousands of miles away a young Valkyrie and a scientist's daughter set about their escape unaware that a simple gift had just ensured their lives.


	9. Jealousy

With a frown on his lips, Wesker stared at the TV monitors in silence. Annoyance intermingled with other forgotten emotions riddled his thoughts as he watched as Claire held a young man who wept nearby the corpse that had once been his father.

In the past, he had always been self-assured and confident about their relationship. There had always been a sense of ease between one that was almost, though not quite, taken for granted. All that remained now was the thin veneer of stoic indifference covering an ever-growing undercurrent of fear. All that mattered to him was unravelling before his eyes and it went by the name-or so the database indicated-of Steve Burnside.

Albert could not hear the conversation exchanged between Claire and Steve; he was uncertain whether to be relieved or annoyed by it. This was just the sort of complication he did not need.

The camaraderie he witnessed between the two was expected. There was little reason for the obnoxious boy to resist her charm. There was even less reason for Claire to resist Steve's obvious adoration. Innocent, young and without the weight of secrets Steve was exactly what Claire needed; everything that Albert was not.

If he killed the boy, Claire would never forgive him. If he spared the teen's life, she could just as easily walk away. Neither option was acceptable, but there little other choice available.

Unclenching his fists Wesker turned his attentions to another set of monitors. There was another matter at hand; one he could not ignore any longer. Chris Redfield was also looking to close the distance between them. The former soldier wanted Wesker dead at any cost; it was a feeling that was more than reciprocated. The former S.T.A.R.S member was of no real threat to Wesker but his mere presence was a mockery of everything he had worked so hard to achieve.

"Time to play a little game Chris," he murmured. With a smirk and a few taps of keys, Wesker buried his doubts as he focussed his thoughts on the immediate present. Releasing a few of the many Chimaeras' kept in holding cells throughout the facility Albert watched on with a grim smirk. The BOW's were not meant to be a real threat; he just needed something to keep Chris busy and to buy himself some time to catch up to the soldier's location.

Swiftly departing from the security room, Albert decided this was just the sort of distraction he needed.

Albert Wesker was many things, he was not jealous.


	10. The Sacrifice

**Author's Notes:** This tale was written to fit into **knune**'s universe as well though it my take on post RE5 events. Anyways Merry Christmas Knune I hope you have a lovely one!

**Beta:** A huge thank you to my amazing beta reader** Cariel **for taking time out of her holidays to beta read this for me on the fly. Thank you so much for wisdom and insight girl I don't know where I would be without you! *glomps*

* * *

Tomorrow would be their first Christmas together. Albert was never a man who bothered with trivial holidays, but this year, he made an exception for Claire. The traditions she spoke of seemed tripe and foolish to Albert, but he played along as best as an outsider could. After a lifetime of observation, he still could not understand its significance but knew it meant a lot to her.

The warm, sincere smile he saw on her lips when she had found the perfect tree had been difficult to ignore. Just as her humming along to the Christmas carols playing on the radio was a moment he would remember. Even the sound of her laughter when she helped him untangle himself from Christmas lights was worth the awkwardness he experienced.

_Oh come on. It's not that bad, is it? Just pretend as though you're having fun. Who knows, maybe you will actually start enjoying yourself! _

Her gentle teasing replayed in his mind along with the impish wink she had given him. The day proved to be more enjoyable than anticipated. For a brief time, Albert was even able to imagine that life was as it used to be during the early days of their relationship: simple and filled with contentment.

It was not until that night, as they relaxed on the couch watching the snowfall, that he noticed the sadness in Claire's eyes. She longed for her family just as much as he longed for the simplicity of the past. Even in each other's arms, he always knew when they were miles apart.

Albert Wesker could not recall the last time he saw Claire smile, the kind of smile that lit up her face and made her eyes shine.

The hour was late and Claire was sleeping soundly, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist. Yet, there was no peace in her expression; her brows were tightly knitted, her lips pursed, and her jaw was firmly set. Albert had long since grown used to it, just as he had once been used to the gun strapped to her bare thigh. Until recently, the weapon was the only article of _clothing_ she never took off while in his presence. Even so, he could still recall the days when their rest was blissful, her smiles were ever ready, and only mere clothes kept them apart.

When they departed for France, he believed everything would change for the better and in many ways, it had. No longer did the expanse of the dinner table separate them, nor did she wear the berretta strapped to her thigh. Her appetite had returned, as did her need to chatter.

Yet the sorrow he saw in her eyes, the internal struggle and unspoken guilt remained. So much had changed, but the things that truly mattered had not. Claire was not happy and no matter how hard Albert tried to give her the joy she deserved, it always fell short.

After years of hiding in the shadows and opulent hotel rooms, they were finally free to embrace what they shared, to love without shame or secrets. Nonetheless, the walls remained, separating them in ways he did not want to consider. He never allowed himself to question why Claire was still with him, why she never walked away in spite of having many opportunities to do so. He knew better than to ask why.

Tonight, he hoped that would all change.

In the past, gifts had always come easily for Wesker. Hours spent searching out the finest jewellery shops in the world had always brought him a strange sense of pleasure. They both knew Claire would never wear the trinkets, but it did not matter. She understood the weight of the gifts' meaning and that had always been enough for him.

His eyes drifted to the grand windows that overlooked their chalet. Outside, snow slowly fell from as the moon peeked out from the clouds above. A moment later, his cat-like eyes moved to the small drawer by his side of the bed. Inside its four wooden walls held the end of life as he knew it and the key to a new beginning.

Carefully shifting himself about, so as not to awaken his lover, Albert opened the small drawer that resided by their bed. The pale moonlight reflected off the needle, casting a light on the ceiling and causing new shadows in the room. Gingerly, he collected the sterile instrument as the young woman stirred slightly before drifting back to sleep. Frozen in mid-action, Wesker waited until he was certain her breathing had slowed. This was one surprise he was not yet ready to share with Claire.

After years of constant study, private testing, and cross-examination, he had finally created an antidote for the virus he once prized. The variant of the progenitor virus had proven difficult, but not impossible to defeat; in his hands, Albert Wesker held the only known cure.

The clear liquid shimmered in the moonlight. The antidote was more than a cure; it was filled with all promises Claire rightfully deserved, the sort he never could give until tonight.

The syringe felt heavy in his hands, as he knew it carried the weight of her hopes and dreams. The virus had robbed Albert of more than his appetite or emotions; it had robbed them both of everything they had once taken for granted. He had thrown it all away in the name of power. Now, years later, he finally understood what his lover had known all along.

With great care, he disentangled himself from the warmth of his lover's arms. She murmured her disappointment, causing Wesker to pause before slipping out of the bed. Claire was used to waking up alone and would not be troubled by his absence.

In silence, he stood by their bedside, watching as she slept. The antidote was his greatest creation and ultimately his undoing. In the past, the progenitor virus he carried was his destiny and sole reason for existence. Without it, he was nothing more than a mere mortal, of no use or purpose to anyone so he once believed. Studying Claire's resting form Albert understood his greatest legacy was never the progenitor virus, rather its antidote. There was no pride felt to the masterpiece, no sorrow for the price he was about to pay either, only cautious hope.

Albert was confident it would work, but was not foolish enough to believe that it was entirely infallible. For this reason alone, he chose to keep it a secret from Claire. He could not afford to feed her false hopes or fill her head with needless concern. Be it a success or a failure, she would learn the truth soon enough.

With his left arm fully extended, he pierced the flesh with the needle's tip and punctured a vein. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath before slowly pushing the plunger. As the antidote emptied into his body, Albert gave a hint of a smile.

It was the one thing Claire desired and the only sacrifice he had ever made.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, everything in his universe was right again.


End file.
